


I (Don't) Want to Ride My Bicycle

by corelton



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Gen, locker room bulletin board, locker room bulletin board 10.12.2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-21 00:12:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2448212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corelton/pseuds/corelton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murasakibara doesn't know how to ride a bike and Himuro takes it upon himself to teach him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I (Don't) Want to Ride My Bicycle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [makichan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/makichan/gifts).



> alright heres my first fic for [ficswap](http://ficswap.tumblr.com) yeehaw. prompt was for [kayla](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/makichan)

Weekends are usually Murasakibara’s reprieve from basketball, just a small pocket of time to himself. Unfortunately, this weekend Himuro has other plans for him. About half an hour ago his phone had timed with a new text from his teammate, asking him to come along to a basketball game. As much as Murasakibara would have loved to turn the offer down and keep this one of his few basketball-free days, Himuro had made the painfully pertinent point that both teams involved were possible opponents and that it would probably be useful to see them in action before possibility became reality.

So in the end, he had agreed and was now waiting on the front stoop of his house for Himuro to show up. A slow glance at his phone tells him Himuro is running late and as he’s about to give up and go back inside to enjoy his weekend, Himuro rounds the corner, calling an apology as he steers his bike to the Murasakibara residence.

“Ah, Atsushi! Sorry, I wasn’t expecting roads to be as busy as they are. There must be some sort of event happening, because everything is swamped.” The bike skids to a stop right in front of the stoop Murasakibara had been just about to stand up from. His breath is a little strained, but his smile is sincere as his foot fumbles with kickstand and he leans against the handlebars as he continues on. “In fact, the train to the game will probably be crowded too. It might be faster if we just rode our bikes to the stadium, since we’re already running late. Sorry about that, again.”

Murasakibara blinks slowly at the suggestion saying blankly, “I don’t have a bike.”

A few rapidfire blinks mark Himuro’s surprise and he takes a moment to process this information before speaking again. “Oh. Well, maybe one of your neighbors have one you can borrow? We’ll only be using it for a few hours at most and I’m sure--”

“I don’t know how to ride a bike,” Murasakibara admits blandly, before Himuro can even finish speaking.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“But riding a bike is so useful. How do you get to school?”

“I walk.”

A thoughtful look passes over Himuro’s face but melts away into a smile before Murasakibara can be bothered to ask what it’s about. “Well, I guess we’ll have to take the train anyway. Mind if I leave my bike here? It’s kind of a hassle to drag on and off the train.”

They tuck the bike into his family’s garage and take off for the station, Murasakibara making use of his long stride to keep up with the quick pace Himuro sets.The issue of his inability to cycle is quickly dropped in favor of Himuro’s projections for the game they’re on their way to see.

 

\---

 

A few weeks pass. Murasakibara once again sits at home, set to enjoy his basketball-free weekend and Himuro once again interrupts that with an unexpected text message. He reluctantly opens it, expecting to be dragged to another game he’s not entirely keen on sitting through, but has a change of heart at the words.

[From: Muro-chin]

[Subject: Are you busy?]

[I have a surprise for you, if you’re free. Can I stop by?]

A surprise? Murasakibara wonders idly what that could mean as he taps out a reply that says sure, he can come over. His mind wanders over things that Himuro has given him in the past and almost everything relates to one thing that makes his expression brighten up. It must be some exotic snack. Maybe Himuro had received another package from one of his American friends, filled with foods not sold in Japan. There had been several delicacies that Himuro had been eager to share and while more of the same would not be a problem with him, the thought of a fresh selection of untasted treats has him casting frequent glances to the corner Himuro usually rounds on his route to the Murasakibara residence.

When his eyes finally catch Himuro, though, he wrinkles his nose and the excitement he had been feeling deflates immediately. Rather than a box of foreign goodies, Himuro dragging not only his own bike but a second. “Here’s the surprise, Atsushi. I got you a bike, so you can learn how to ride. My dad’s old bike has been sitting around unused, so I fixed it up. The frame should be big enough for you, too.”

While it’d be rude to completely reject the bike his friend had spent time and effort on patching up, Murasakibara has a hard time finding it in himself to act appreciative of the unwanted gift. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Himuro manages to take it with grace. His smile remains unfaltering, as if he had expected such a reception. “I told you before, biking is a really useful skill. Everyone should learn to ride a bike. It’s easy, I promise you. You’ll never forget how to ride it and you can keep the bike. No one at my place is ever going to use it.”

Murasakibara manages to hold back the fact that it won’t get any use at his house either as he stares blankly at the bike. “I don’t need to know how to bike.”

“Come on,” Himuro shoot back, with a goodnatured nudge at Murasakibara’s arm, “just give it a shot. Humor me and I’ll buy you some nerunerunerune candy.”

Murasakibara can tell by the tone of his voice that Himuro knows full well that he’s just needling his weakness for his favorite food, but it’s enough to get Murasakibara reaching for the handlebars and straddling the saddle. “Fine.”

Himuro laughs, pleased with himself and his bribe. “That was easier than I thought it’d be.”

“How do I do this?”

The smug smile slides off his face. “I didn’t actually think of how to word it. You pretty much just…” He trails off, getting on his own bike as he speaks, to demonstrate. “You just get on it and put your feet on the pedals and… Go?” Despite his unsure words, Himuro puts his feet on the pedals and rides a short distance down the street. “Like that. It’s not that hard.”

Mursasakibara’s movements are as unsure as Himuro’s words. He places one foot on the pedal, but as he moves to do the same with his other foot, the bike wobbles and both feet immediately find the pavement. “You’re lying to me, Muro-chin.”

Though he doesn’t look away from the handlebars he’s staring intensely at, Himuro’s laugh at his expense gives away his amusement. “You have to balance the bike. It’s a little rough at first but once you get the bike moving, it will be easier. Just start pedaling with your first foot and then put your other foot on the pedal once you’re moving.”

Murasakibara grunts, not sure how much stock he’s willing to put into the advice of the guy who was just stammering his way through his instructions, but he knows Himuro won’t relent until he puts in some sort of effort to this cycling thing. So, he lifts a foot to the pedals again, this time and pushes down. The bike moves a few inches and with that shaky start, Murasakibara tries to put his foot on the other pedal. It’s harder to do with the pedal circling around and he focuses so intently on trying to make contact that byt the time he notices the way the bike is leaning, it’s too late to correct.

His elbow and knee take the brunt of the fall, slamming into the pavement and skidding a very short distance. It’s still enough to rub the tender skin of his elbow raw and the stinging brings a scowl to his face. In an instant, Himuro is at his side, looking over the wound.

“It’s just a small scrape, you’ll be fine.”

“It hurts.”

His eyes sweep from the wound to Murasakibara’s face. “Ah, come on, you’re alright. We should clean it off and put a bandage on it and then you can get right back on the bike.”

“I’m not getting back on the bike,” Murasakibara mutters defiantly, glaring at the contraption that had facilitated his fall.

“Think of the nerunerunerune, Atsushi.”

“No.”

At the short, flat answer, Himuro puts his hands up, admitting defeat. “Alright, alright, I won’t force you. At any rate, we should clean your elbow. An infection could get pretty nasty.”

Murasakibara steps inside to take care of his wound at Himuro’s urging while Himuro himself wheels the bikes out of the street, should any cars come by while they’re inside. They spend a little time hanging out before Himuro finally wheels both bikes back to his own place.

 

\---

 

Just when Murasakibara believes he’s seen the last of that bike and has completely put it out of his mind, the damn thing comes back again. Here it is once again, parked out on the street in front of his home, as if it intents to haunt him until the day he dies. There’s a minor difference this time though. Hanging off the back wheel are two smaller wheels, one on either side of the bike, making it look just about as ridiculous as he feels the concept of him riding it is.

“They’re training wheels,” Himuro explains, clearly proud of himself and the silly alteration. “They’ll help you keep your balance so you don’t fall over like that time. Why don’t you try it out?”  

By this point, it’s probably easier to get on the bike, fall off the bike and garner Himuro’s sympathy to put the matter of bike riding once again in the hopefully distant future. he positions himself over the bike and looks back to check that the tiny little wheels aren’t just going to snap off the bike when he notices, “You messed up. They don’t touch the ground, Muro-chin.”

“No, no, Himuro waves a hand dismissively as he speaks, “they’re supposed to be like that. They’re like a safety net so you can learn how to balance. They won’t touch when you’re balancing, but if you start to tip over, they’ll catch you.”

Murasakibara gives the wheels one last skeptical glare before setting one foot on the pedal and pushing it down, fumbling to put the other foot on its corresponding pedal, but as the bike tilts, he slams his feet back to the pavement. He remembers the sting of the scrape from last time and would rather not feel it again.

“If you keep doing that, you’ll never figure the balance out,” HImuro chides, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “The training wheels will catch you! It’s what they’re there for.”

With another disdainful glance for the flimsy looking wheels jutting out from either side of the back wheel, he tries yet again to get the bike moving and once again slaps the soles of his shoes back to the ground when the bike wobbles. He can’t even manage to get both feet on both pedals before instinct tells him to touch back to something solid.

Himuro watches him for a moment, hand on his chin as he thinks something over, before speaking up. “Here, I’ll hold you up so you can keep your balance while you put your feet on the pedals without feeling like you’re going to fall and then once you start moving, I’ll let go.”

Without waiting for any sign of approval, Himuro circles behind the bike and places a hand on either side of Murasakibara’s waist. The hands of his teammate are a lot easier to trust than two tiny wheels, so Murasakibara dutifully raises one foot to the pedal and without bothering to try to move the bike, lifts his other foot.

“I need to stop spoiling you so much,” Himuro says with a laugh as he tightens his grip. “You’re almost too heavy for me to hold up like this.”

“Don’t drop me.”

“I won’t, I won’t,” Himuro reassures him softly. “Now come on and pedal a little bit. Get it moving.”

He obliges and Himuro does some sort of weird shuffle behind the bike to move forward with him without hitting his feet on the training wheels. They move together like this for a few feet, creeping inch by inch along the street. “There you go, you’re starting to get the hang of it, I think,” Himuro’s praise is soft and almost paternal, like a proud father watching his overgrown child. The continue like this for a while longer, Himuro pushing Murasakibara to use more speed. Once he starts to struggle keeping up with the bike, he announces, “I’m going to let go now,” and though Murasakibara wants to insist he continue holding him, he simply nods in acknowledgement.

The moment the hands leave his waist, the bike starts to wobble and Murasakibara wants nothing more to take his feet off the rotating pedals and put them on the solid ground, but Himuro’s words ring in his ears. If you keep doing that, you’ll never figure the balance out. As the frame tips, he scowls, bracing for another scrape, though this time on his other elbow, but the bike catches and stands tilted at an impossible angle. He glances back and sure enough, the training wheel is touching the ground and holding the bike up.

“See, I told you they’d catch you!” Himuro says as he walks up beside the bike. He kicks a little at the small wheel holding the bike up. “Now you can practice riding without worrying about falling over. Though we should probably get you a helmet, too.”

Despite himself, Murasakibara smiles a little as he starts to once again work the pedals. It’s easier to ride now that he knows he won’t fall over. He manages to get the bike upright again as he rides down the street, though he quickly ends up tilting over to the otherside. Once again, the training wheel catches him. Himuro was right.

He thinks. though he won’t admit it out loud, that maybe learning to ride a bike won’t be so bad after all.


End file.
